


Whatever Remains

by doctorcaslock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angels, Crossover, Demons, Wings, superlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorcaslock/pseuds/doctorcaslock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case takes an unexpected turn as Sherlock and John search for a missing child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was pitch black. Thick clouds were blocking the light of the moon with the threat of rain ever present. Sherlock stopped in front of the building, torch in hand, and looked at it with awe. Behind him John stopped and looked at the building with uncertainty.

“Sherlock what are we doing here?”

“Missing child John. Those two victims were a mother and father, and Lestrade said that they were constantly seen in and around this building.” He started to walk to the front doors when John stopped him.

“Sherlock, this is an abandoned hospital. An asylum. You have heard the stories; killers, rapists, maniacs lived and died here. Not to talk about the crazy doctors and the lobotomies and neglected patients left to die.”

“John, there are no such things as ghosts. Obviously the neglect of the building itself killed the two homeless people, now come on.” Sherlock tugged out of John’s grip and ran to the front doors.

“And we couldn’t wait for Lestrade to do this because…?”

“Because there isn’t any time! Now stop complaining and help me with this.” The front doors were chained shut, but Sherlock came prepared, or rather, he made sure that John came prepared, “Give me the crowbar,” he held out his hand behind him, still looking at the chains. John sighed and handed him the metal crowbar.  
Sherlock stuck it through one of the links and twisted it hard. Sherlock was lean, but strong, and John was surprised to see the link snap in half and the chain fall to the ground.

With a “Haha!” Sherlock kicked the chains to the side and pushed open the thick doors. Once inside the two men waved their torches in front of them, figuring out the layout of the old hospital. Sherlock was amazed at the place, the high ceilings, the stairs, several doors leading off to different parts of the building, each with its own history.

John on the other hand, looked worried. The peeling wallpaper, the leaky ceiling, and the numerous amounts of cobwebs. He looked to the right of them and he felt his heart drop at the sight of a rusty old stretcher.

“Amazing isn’t it?” Sherlock said. He went to the front desk and saw piles of papers. “John, old profiles. These patients. Wow..”

“Yea.. incredible, now hurry up, this place is giving me the creeps. And put those papers back! What use are they to you?” Sherlock was in the process of piling some of the manila folders and putting them in his pocket.

“John, the information in these folders, timeless! Now, let’s split up, I’ll look upstairs while-“

“WHOA WHOA WHOA- we are NOT splitting up!” John said he walked towards Sherlock, who was about to climb the ancient stairway. “I don’t care if you’re not creeped out, but I am. This place is old, and it is deteriorating in front of our eyes. It is not safe. We are not splitting up.”

“But John-“

“No but’s. I don’t care if we cover more ground. I am not going to be alone in this place.”

At that moment it suddenly got cold. A wind could be heard, moving through the deserted hallways, but could not be felt. A sound got both of their attention, and when they looked to the source they found the rusty stretcher slowly move its way across the main lobby, rolling over the fallen debris, before stopping right in front of them. John gulped.

“Okay, maybe we won’t split up,” Sherlock said. Then he made a dash up the stairs.

“Sh- Sherlock! Wait!” After making sure the stretcher won’t follow them up the stairs, John followed. Once on the second floor, John looked down both ways of the long corridor, looking for his flatmate. “Sherlock? Sherlock!” With no answer, John cursed under his breath and turned left to look for him.  
Sherlock actually when up to the third story. He heard John yelling for him downstairs, but he didn’t answer. If he was looking for Sherlock, he will be thorough in his search, thus possibly finding the lost homeless girl.

He pointed his torch in each room he passed, but each showed an empty bed frame and peeling walls will a barred window. Behind him, he heard a crash. He turned to shine the torch to illuminate the opposite end of the corridor and saw a black figure enter one of the rooms all of the way at the end. “Hello?” he yelled.  
He quickly ran to the other side of the corridor, while being careful not to trip over debris and an occasional empty wheelchair. It was weird, they were looking for a little girl, but he was certain that the figure he saw was the size of a grown man. It wasn’t John, he can still hear him shouting Sherlock’s name downstairs. So who was it?

He finally reached the room he saw the figure run into. He stopped before reaching the doorway and took out the handgun he stole from Lestrade earlier. He counted to three in his head before swiftly turning into the room, gun and torch both pointing into the room. And then he lowered them. There was no one in there. “What..?” he said to himself. He could have sworn he saw someone walk into this room. Then he held his breath. Once you eliminated the impossible whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. “No, because that’s impossible as well.” There are no such things as ghosts, demons, or anything supernatural like that. John’s childish thinking is just getting him worked up. And when was the last time he ate?

Sherlock sighed, and turned back out into the corridor. To his left was a wall- he was at the end of the building. So he turned right to head back to the stairs and back to John. He raised his torch in front of him and that is when he sees her.

The little girl stood a couple of yards in front of Sherlock. Dressed in rags, her head was looking down, and her long hair was covering her face. Sherlock crouched down to be at her level. “There you are. Don’t worry, I am here to help you.” He held out his arm to her. She moved her head up a bit. “It’s okay,” Sherlock continued waving his fingers to encourage her, “I won’t hurt you.”

She raised her head to look at Sherlock, and Sherlock’s eyes opened wide when he saw that her eyes were nothing but empty red sockets. He jumped back and backed up to the wall at the end of the corridor. The girl started to walk towards Sherlock, opening her mouth to reveal what seemed like rows and rows of sharp teeth.  
“John,” Sherlock said, back against the wall, and shock preventing him from remembering how to yell, “John? John!” The girl continued to advance, and Sherlock gasped as he realized that there were smaller yet equally deadly mouths opening up on all parts of the girl’s body- her neck, arms, legs. She even awkwardly bent backward and the sharp edges of teeth can be seen under her ragged dress.

“John! JOHN!” he yelled. The girl came closer and closer, and Sherlock didn’t know how to move out around her. Then all of a sudden he heard a voice that was definitely not John’s.

“SHIELD YOUR EYES.”

Sherlock obeyed and hid his eyes behind his arms. One floor down, John was running towards the source of Sherlock’s yells. Then all of a sudden the air around him lit up, impossibly bright. He closed his eyes, but the light as still impossibly bright, so he had to cover his face with his arm. And then just as quick as it started, it faded. John slowly lowered his arm and looked around him. Everything was pitch black. He blinked his eyes repeatedly in order to adjust.

Back upstairs, Sherlock lowered his arm as well. After adjusting his eyes to the blackness of the abandoned building, he looked up to see a man holding the now very dead girl by the head. Without taking his eyes off of the figure, he felt around for the torch. Finally finding it, he turned it on and pointed it at the figure. 

The man looking back at him appeared angry. His brows were brought together with concern. He seemed to be wearing an old and torn trenchcoat, and underneat a suit that has seen better days. But the thing that made Sherlock’s jaws drop were the fantastic silhouettes of wings behind him.

“Who.. who are you?” Sherlock said. Everything in his mind seemed to make sense. American obviously. Seen a lot of things. A lot of horrible things. Has someone close, but back in the states, seemed to come here in a hurry… but the giant wings were throwing him off. “What are you?”

The man noticed what was distracting Sherlock, for he only asked, “What color are they?”

“Black.” Sherlock said immediately. The man adjusted them and folded them against his back. Only then did Sherlock meet his eyes.

“I am Castiel, an angel, and you and John are in danger.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock slowly slid up the wall he was leaning against to get into a standing position. Torch still on the… angel? He called himself an Angel? Whatever remains… Those wings. Pitch black. Blacker than the darkness of the abandoned building. Sherlock’s head started to hurt form trying to put everything together. There were no such thing as angels. Or.. whatever that was that had taken the shape of the little girl, but here they were. Right in front of Sherlock.

“C-Castiel? What do you mean danger?” The click of the safety of a gun prevented Castiel from answering. Behind the Angel in the dooray to the small hospital room, John held his gun straight at the intruder’s head.

“Who the hell are you. ” John said. His soldier instincts were kicking in, and it was taking a lot of control to not take the ‘shoot now ask later’ path.

“John-” Sherlock walked across the room to John and moved his left arm, making the gun move away from Castiel, “It’s okay, we can trust him.”

“Why?” John said, without taking his eyes off of Castiel, and the angel didn’t take his eyes off of John. Sherlock noticed his wings were again unfolded and ruffled, making the Angel look even more intimidating. When he looked back at John however, it was like John never noticed them in the first place.

“Because I saved his life. My name is Castiel. We need to get you two out of here,” He turned his head slightly to look at Sherlock, “Especially you.”

“What? What do you mean? Who are you? The Police? What are you doing here in the first place, where-“

“John,” finally John saw Sherlock for the first time since entering the room. He was shaken up. Eyes darting, breath heavy, and hair all disheveled. “Listen to him. He is,” Sherlock took a deep breath, “he is an angel. A real Angel. Look at his wings.”

John gave a look of confusion at Sherlock before looking at Castiel again. Castiel spread his wings again, and Sherlock made sure John could see them by shining the torch at them. He mouth fell open again, he was still amazed by them.

“I.. I don’t see any wings, Sherlock.” John said, and at this he brought up his gun again, pointing at the so called Angel. “Now tell me what the fuck you did to him to make him think you have wings.”

Castiel brought his hands up slowly, “I did no harm to Sherlock. Now please, if I can get us all out of here, I can explain everything. As for my wings,” Castiel folded them against his back again, “Sherlock’s superior intelligence and observation skills enables him to see them. Which makes him a target. Which is why we need to get out of here. Now please, John, I am here to help you. Put your gun down.”

John still did not trust him. He looked back at Sherlock, who gave him a slight nod. If Sherlock trusted this stranger, so could John. He lowered the gun. “Now where is that missing child?”

Castiel stepped to the side to reveal the dead girl on the ground. “This is what I saved Sherlock from,” Castiel explained while John gasped knelt on the girl to check on her. He jumped back when he saw her empty eye sockets. Castiel quickly continued, “She was dead long before I arrived. She was a vessel for a demon. However this demon is something I have not experienced before. I will not explain anymore until we are in a safer environment. Where is your home, Sherlock?”  
“221. 221b Baker St.” Sherlock said. Without another word Castiel put his index and middle fingers of both hands and touched John and Sherlock’s forehead. After a blink, they were all in the sitting room of 221b.

John took a few deep breaths before coming to terms with what just happened. “Tea. I need tea.” He immediately went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Sherlock coughed a laugh. This Angel was interesting, no scratch that. Fascinating. Unbelievable. What else can he do? He looked at him again. Castiel was looking around the room.

“I have friends back in the States. They will help us. They have different skills than I do, but those skills are required if we don’t want anything to take you away Sherlock.”

“Take him away?” John came back in with a steaming mug in hand. “Take him where? Over my dead body.”

“Don’t tempt them John. As I said before, Sherlock can see my wings. That means he can see more than other people.”

“Obviously,” Sherlock mumbled. He sat in his chair and made himself look bored, but he was still watching the wings twitch and flutter as the Angel attached to them explained.

“That makes you a seer. Literally meaning a see-er. You can see the supernatural where ordinary humans can’t.”

“Then why did that demon want me?”

“It was no ordinary demon Sherlock. It was a Night Demon. A very powerful entitiy that cannot posses any human. Hence the dead homeless couple and the girl-“

“The empty eye sockets,” John said. He couldn’t believe he was starting to accept what is going on.  
Castiel nodded, “Correct. Only someone like Sherlock can take the power that a Night Demon holds. They want to posses you Sherlock, and what they want to do with you afterwards I have no idea, but we cannot let that happen.”

Sherlock was still quiet, hands together under his chin. Finally he said, “I don’t need to be protected. I have all that I need up here,” He pointed at his head. His mind. “And over there,” he pointed to John. “I am fully capable of thinking of a way to outsmart these… Night Demons.. and John has had enough experience to use force if it comes to that.”

“You don’t understand Sherlock, Castiel said, and Sherlock saw his wings twitch again in agitation. “These are not ordinary thieves or criminals. They are not even human. They are old. And more powerful that you can believe. At them want you. They know eery trick in the book, and they will try everything to get to you.” 

“But in the end they will make a mistake. and I will use that-“

“No. You Won’t!” Castiel yelled, and his wings opened up again. He stood over Sherlock, black wings surrounding them both. Sherlock could not see John through them. “Listen. sherlock. You are a human. A Seer, maybe. You are more intelligent than most but still HUMAN. They WILL find you with out our help. And I DO NOT want to wait around for you to get into their possession in order for you to learn your lesson.” Inches apart, the Angel and Seer stared at each other. John watched the whole thing, but without seeing the wings, he could not fully understand why Sherlock is almost cowering before the man in the trenchcoat.

“Will you let us help you?” Castiel said, but in a tone that made Sherlock hold his breath. After a minute of silence, Sherlock finally nodded. “Good.” Castiel stood back up and with a shuffle of feathers, folded his wings. He gave the two of them one last look. “I will be back with my friends tomorrow. Good night.”

And then he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

“… Where’s Cas?”

“I’m glad you assume that I know where he is 24/7. Thanks.”

“Wow. Sorry. I didn’t realize you would be upset-“

“Upset? Upset!” Dean got up off the bed in the motel room and stormed over to Sam, who was on his laptop. “Now why the hell would I be upset?”

At this Sam just raised his eyebrows. Dean took a deep breath.

“Sorry, sorry. When you’re in the middle of a hunt one second and the next you’re no where to be seen… I’m just.. worried okay? Oh don’t look at me like that!” 

The day before, Sam and Dean were dealing with a large infestation of demons. They seemed to be getting ready for something. Castiel was with them interrogating one of the demons. The demon said that ‘He’ is coming, and once ‘He’ does, Crowley is getting the boot, and the demons will take over the world. Or attempt to. Again.

They were about to get into the details about ‘Him’ when they were ambushed. Dean and Sam were able to fight them off, but once they were done, Castiel was no where to be found. He didn’t even answer either of the Winchesters’ prayers.

Dean walked to the window and looked at the empty road under the early afternoon sun. They both decided they weren’t going to leave the small nameless town in Alabama until the Angel returned. “Hurry up Cas,” Dean said. They knew he wasn’t dead, but not knowing where he was, if he was suffering or not, was eating at their brains. Especially Dean.

“I know where he is.”

Dean turned around and Sam looked up form his laptop. Cas was standing in the middle of the room.

“Cas!” Dean said. Sam stood up and Dean walked from the window to his friend. “Where the hell where you? You know how worried I- we were?”

“I found him. Or, will find him. I was in London.”

“London?” Sam asked, “Why London?”

“So we know who ‘Him’ is now?” Dean asked.

Castiel took a breath. This was going to take a bit to explain. So he started from the beginning.

“That demon we were questioning last night, she said that they were going to replace Crowley with someone much more powerful. So powerful that a human cannot be a vessel. They are talking about a Night Demon. Only people that are Seers can be the vessels of a Night Demon, otherwise the human body that they take hold of literally falls apart.” Castiel continues and tells them about the incident at the abandoned asylum. Also about Sherlock.

“Wait, Sherlock Holmes?” Sam said, “Like, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, Sherlock Holmes?  No way.”

“You know them? How? You never left the states except that one time we went to find Crowely’s vessel’s bones.” Dean said. Castiel was confused too.

“No, I- I read Dr. Watson’s blog. It’s great! The Study in Pink, Scandal in Belgravia. My favorite was the Hounds of Baskerville. I totally thought there was something Supernatural going on, I was actually going to suggest looking into it if it were.”

Dean looked at him with a disgusted look, “Why must you know about these things? I swear this is getting annoying.”

“That is definitely not a good sign. John is putting Sherlock on display, basically advertising him for the demons. We need to keep them both safe. Since we know that-“

“Whoa. Hold the phone. We are going to London?”

“Well, yea Dean, we can’t exactly keep them safe from here-” Sam started.

“No. Nope. I am NOT going to England. There is nothing there but, but posh british folk and. Tea. And, and Bulldogs, and crumpets and - UGH” Dean shook himself with disgust. ”I would prefer to protect him over Skype, where I am still living in the good ole’ USA.”

“I’m sorry Dean, but you have to come with us. If you want to save the world.”

“Again?” Dean moaned, “Ugh fine, but I am not going to like it. Nope. Any country that isn’t known for their apple pies is a country that I don’t want to live in more than necessary.”

Castiel and Sam both rolled their eyes. “The good news,” Cas said, “is that it seems that the demons do not know that the Night Demon is here, and they do not know that Sherlock exists.”

“One more question, how do we know that Sherlock-“

“Sherlock? What kind of name is that?” Dean said under his breath.

“-is a vessel? How do we know he’s a Seer? Seers, well, see things right? What did he see?”

Castiel looked at Dean before turning back to Sam, “My wings.”

“What?” They both said together.

“Yes, I was as surprised as you are. I didn’t even know until after I saved him from the Night Demon and he answered my question about them.”

“What’s the question?” Dean asked, a little too harsh.

“What color are they,” Castiel paused as both Sam and Dean looked at where his wings would be. “My wings change color. Nothing drastic, but enough so that they will be a different color the next time I see him.”

“What color are they now?” Dean asked, still looking for the wings he will never see.

“Dean…”

“What? Just a simple question.”

“Dean.” Sam said. Dean looked at his brother. A wordless conversation occured between the two brothers.

_Stop being childish, this is important._

_Childish? I am not-_

_Dean. You know it’s not like that._

_But-_

_You know. It’s not like that._

_…Fine_

“Off to London then.” Dean said in defeat. Castiel looks to Sam. Sam nods, and then Castiel, with his middle and index fingers, touched Sam and Dean’s foreheads. 

And like that they disappeared from the old motel room.


	4. Chapter 4

When they appeared at the front door of 221 Baker St. it was raining.

“Why am I not surprised,” Dean complained. Next to him Sam was looking around them in awe. He has always wanted to travel. Especially to London. Now he is finally here. With his moody brother.

“Ugh let’s get this over with. The quicker we get to leave this place, the better.”

Cas just glared at him before going up the few steps to the door and knocked twice. A shuffling inside was heard before an elderly woman opened the door. 

“Oh hello! You must be Sherlock’s friends!” She said, “The Americans right? Even though I have had a bad history with you lot, I can tell that you three are harmless.”

To this Dean humphed.

“I am Mrs. Hudson, the boys’ land lady, but I tell you what. For your troubles, I’ll make you something nice.”

At this Dean perked up.

“Pie?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Dean..”

Dean angrily glared at Sam, “PIE.”

Mrs. Hudson just laughed. “Lucky for you I can make a mean Apple Pie. Oh don’t worry dear, it’s my pleasure! I’ll just head out to the shop now and I’ll have a nice fresh pie for you tonight. Come in!” Mrs. Hudson led them inside to the bottom of the stairs that led up to 221b.

“Sherlock! These lovely men from America are here! You three can just go up. I will see you again later,” after placing her hand on Cas’ arm she went back into her own flat. Cas and Sam looked at Dean, who was now grinning like a child.

“Pie!” he said. The two of them rolled their eyes before climbing up the stairs. They walked into an empty flat. It was quiet, except for the white noise of the steady rain outside. Sam walked to the fireplace and stared at the skull on the mantle. Dean took interest in the bull’s head wearing the headphones.

“Castiel,” The three turned at once to the young man in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

“Sherlock,” Cas nodded, “This is Sam and Dean, the hunters I told you about.”

“Hi,” Sam said, and he extended his hand to Sherlock. Sherlock stared at it for a second before walking past him toward Dean.

The two men gave each other a once over and Sherlock smirked. “Don’t worry,” Sherlock said, and Dean tensed and frowned, “I have no intention of stealing your angel from you.”

Dean instantly stood in the defensive. Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise and Castiel looked confused. Before Dean said anything, the sound of someone walking down the stairs can be heard.

“Sherlock,” John said, as he entered the room, “Don’t start. Hi, I’m-“

“Dr. John Watson!” Sam said, walking towards him. They shook hands, “I am a big fan of your blog. Fantastic! My favorite was the one about the Hound.”

John laughed as he thanked him, and collectively Sherlock and Dean both sighed out of annoyance.

Cas cleared his throat, “If we can get to why we are here,” he turned to Sherlock. “What color are they?”

“Brown. Sandy brown.” He turned his head to Dean, “Same shade as his hair. You see,” He said to Dean. Who was tightening his hands into fists, “Don’t worry about me.”

“Sherlock, this demon will not stop to get to you. We all need to know what we are up against.” Cas said. John offered to make tea, which Sam replied yes too, and Dean declined. Eventually the three Americans were sitting on the couch, John at his desk, and Sherlock in his usual chair. Castiel spoke.

“As I said before, We are dealing with a Night Demon. They are very old, and very powerful. I have never experienced one personally, but I have heard stories. They cannot travel without a vessel during the day, hence the name, and their smoke appears thick and white, very similar to fog.”

“How do we stop it? To kill it?” Dean asked.

“Salt is still efficient enough to trap it and keep it out of this building, but outside, the only way is to know that it’s there and run.”

“Which is a good thing. Sherlock will be able to see it.” John said. Sherlock sat still and quiet listening to everything the Angel is saying. He kept an eye on the large wings and took mental notes of their movements. One of them is currently around the older hunter, as if in protection.

Suddenly Sherlock’s phone went off. Lestrade. Without a word, Sherlock got up and went to put his coat and scarf on. “Where are you going?” John asked.

“Leastrade. Another body with no eyes.”

“Sherlock, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Cas said. He stood up and went to block the door, wings unfolding for emphasis. Sherlock took a step back at the sudden movement and stared at them. They were sandy brown, but were a deeper brown at the tips of the larger feathers. He finally locked eyes with Castiel.

“You said it yourself, I will be able to see the fog before it gets to me, and I know for a fact that I will not stay cooped up in here until this whole thing passes.” He puts on his coat and wraps his scarf around his neck. “Come on John.”

John was about to get up before Castiel held up his hand, “Fine, but take Dean with you.”

“What?” Dean said. He didn’t want to miss the pie. He can start to smell it from downstairs.

“Dean knows what to do with a demon. John doesn’t. No offense”

 ”None taken…”

Castiel looked back at Sherlock. “Take Dean with you.”

Sherlock was silent for a moment. Then, “Fine,” and then he pushed past Castiel and went downstairs, not waiting for Dean. Dean got his jacket on and glared at Cas.

“Cas, what the hell?”

“You two need to learn to trust each other.”

The front door downstairs slammed shut.

“You better go, Sherlock is not one to wait,” John said from his chair. Dean fixed his jacket, zipped it up and grudgingly went downstairs to follow the equally pissed off detective.


	5. Chapter 5

The Cab was quiet. For Sherlock it was comfortable, but for Dean…

“So what’s your story now? Sam tells me you can read people like a book. I may not be able to tell a person’s life story by looking at their jacket, but I am a good judge of character.”

Sherlock rolled eyes eyes before turning away from the window to look at Dean.

“For example, you’re a dick.”

Sherlock stared at Dean for a second. He could talk about Dean’s troubled childhood. He could talk about his lifelong burden of ‘the family business.’ He could also talk about his Angel. Well… John wasn’t here to stop him.

“I am as excited to have you here as you are. Lucky for you I find no interest in you or your brother with your little adventures with monsters. Who I am interested in…” Sherlock, laughed. Dean clenched his hands into fists again, “This Angel with whom you seem to share a more… profound bond”

Dean set his jaw.

“Oh please, I hate repeating myself.”

“You can see his wings.” Dean said, still in defense mode.

“Yes, and you’re  jealous of that fact. Please, be glad you don’t, I find it extremely tedious to have you three trying to hold my hand whenever I want to cross the street.”

The cab pulled to the side of the road and Sherlock quickly got out. Walking towards the crime scene, Lestrade met him at the police tape.

“Where is it?”

“Just back over here, wait, who is that?” Lestrade said, pointing at Dean, who was running to catch up to Sherlock.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s going to wait here”

“Wait, Sherlock I think that I should come in there with you, it’s getting dark-“

“He will wait out here,” Sherlock said again. He turned to Dean, “You are not getting the concept that I dislike repeating myself. Stay here, I won’t be long.” Sherlock Ducked under the tape and went into the alley way with Lestrade.

Dean looked around him to see the other officers walking around giving him odd looks. Making sure he had his knife with him, Dean waited.

Sherlock stood from looking at the dead body. It was the same as the little girl. Empty eye sockets. All bones crushed and broken. But he didn’t get it- there was no angel here to kill it. “Lestrade. I… This may sound weird, but I know what is happening to these people.”

He looked at Lestrade, who was waiting for his explanation with a confused look. “It’s a demon.”

“A Demon?” Lestrade said with a laugh.

“I know, it sounds ridiculous, but with the girl, me and John-“

“Oh Sherlock, no need to explain, you’ll just bore me.” Lestrade said, his smile growing into a grin.

Sherlock looked in shock as Lestrade’s eyes turned into two black orbs. “I know exactly what’s going on.”

Sherlock backed away from Lestrade, who was still grinning at him

“DEA-” Sherlock tried to yell for Dean, who was still waiting out on the street, but from behind him Anderson came out of nowhere to wrap a piece of cloth around his mouth, preventing him from yelling out.

“This little bastard in here has wanted to do this for  _years._ ” He then turned Sherock around and kneed him in the stomach, making the detective drop to his knees.

“Tie him up, it’s almost night time.” the demon in Lestrade said, looking up into the sky. 

Back out on the street, Dean felt uneasy. Shouldn’t he be done by now? Sherlock said he would be fast. He didn’t know how the Detective did his work, but his hunter instincts were yelling at him that something was wrong. Making sure no one was looking, he snuck under the tape and ran into the alley way.

Even though it was dark, Dean could see a dense fog forming at the end of the alley way, where the crime scene was, and where Sherlock is currently tied down.

“Fuck! Sherlock!” Dean took out his knife and ran towards the small group. Anderson turned from Sherlock and, eyes black orbs, ran to Dean. Dean easily switched the knife from one hand to the other and immediately stabbed Anderson, who’s eyes and mouth sparked a bit before he dropped to the floor.

The demon in Lestrade laughed. “Too late, mate,” and before Dean reached him, the dark smoke escaped through Lestrade’s mouth and flew away into the night. Lestrade fell to the ground, and Dean checked his pulse to make sure he was still alive. A little slow, but he will survive.

He turned and ran to Sherlock. He freed his mouth before untying him.

“Are you alright?”

“Yea… yea. What happened?” Sherlock asked, quickly getting to his feet, but Dean instantly pushed him towards the wall.

“How do I know it’s you?” He asked.

“What? Dean! There’s no demon in me. My mind is perfectly clear.” Dean still looked uncertain, Sherlock sighed with annoyance, “Your father was a terrible one, never there, so you had to take it upon yourself to raise your brother. With no knowledge of any other lifestyle you chose to stay in the family business, hunting monsters. Eventually you forced your brother into taggi-“

“Alright, alright. It’s you.” He let go of Sherlock and stepped back, “Dick.”

At this Sherlock smirked. He looked at Anderson, dead on the floor. “There were demons in them?” 

“Yea, That guy will survive,” Dean said pointing to Lestrade, “But it was too late for this one.”

Sherlock walked over to Anderson and just looked at him. “Come on,” Dean said, walking back out onto the street, “There are paramedics out there, and we should get back inside Baker St.”

“Yea, yea.” Sherlock said. He looked once again around the alleyway. The air was clear and crisp, and when he turned to follow Dean, he saw Donovan walk towards him. They locked eyes, but Donovan’s were pitch black, and when she grinned at Sherlock, he grinned back, and without a word, continued walking their own ways.


	6. Chapter 6

The cab ride home was filled with tension. Dean kept looking toward Sherlock, who was looking out the window.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked. Sherlock looked nervous.

He kept fiddling with his hands and his eyes were darting through the window. At one point he actually turned to see if anyone was following them.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He was quite for a minute before he continued, “Something’s not right.”

“What do you mean?” dean asked.

“The alleyway. There was a fog. But then it was gone.”

“You don’t think it was..” Sherlock cut him off with a shake of his head.

“No, it didn’t get me. When the demon left Lestrade it was a big dramatic exit. I didn’t feel anything enter me, nor do I feel like I can’t control myself. So what is it?”

The rest of the ride was silent, but both Hunter and Seer were uneasy.

When Dean and Sherlock arrived at 221B John and Sam were at the laptop trying to find more research on this Night Demon. Cas was looking out the window. They all looked up when the two entered the room.

“Sherlock!” John said, “Tea? You both looked like you were… what were you doing?”

“Yes, please.” Sherlock said. “The Demons know about me.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. “What color are they?”

Sherlock looked at the Angel’s wings. “White, but..” he rubbed his eyes. They felt dry and itchy. Odd. “They have a blueish hue. Like they’re glowing-“

Castiel’s wings flapped once and he pushed Sherlock against the hall.

“W-What?!”

“You’re not Sherlock.” Castiel said.

“Y-yes I am!” Sherlock pushed Castiel off of him and looked around the room. Everyone was standing, and they were all staring at Sherlock. Dean and Sam looked like they were about to fight, but John..

“John,” Sherlock reached out to him and John took a step back, feeling for the gun that he didn’t have on hand.

“Sherlock?” he asked.

“Yes! What? What’s wrong?”

“You mean,” Sam asked, “You don’t know?”

“KNOW WHAT? WHAT IS WRONG?” Sherlock was getting angry, what’s going on?

After hesitating for a moment, John took Sherlock’s arm and pulled him in front of the mirror. “Look at your eyes.”

Sherlock looked at John and then looked at his reflection on the mirror.

Everything looked normal to him. Except his eyes. They were wrong. So wrong. The colors. His entire eyeball, the colors were inverted. A piercing white pupil. Instead of the greyish blue, his irises were completely grey, but it was bright with darker shading. The sclera of the actual eyeball was pitch black.

John backed away from him, expecting the worst. Sherlock was shocked. No, he thought, it can’t be the demon. He would have felt it. At least have his thoughts fuzzed a bit. He should have felt the demon enter him he should have… should have…

Sherlock had his back to the others. Then, he started to laugh. “Aww, and I was having so fun,” He turned around. The color of his eyes were still inverted, but he had a grin that was proof that Sherlock wasn’t there anymore. “He had no idea I was here, I was was waiting for how long it would take for him to notice, but in the end, it turns out that he’s ordinary, just like everyone else.” Not-Sherlock looked at Castiel. “Nice wings. Turns out I have a pair of my own,” Two large bat-like wings sprouted from Sherlock’s back, the webbing a deep dark purple. “So, here we are, good and evil in the same room. How exciting!”

A click of a gun caught his attention. “Oh John. John John Jonny John.” He walked towards the soldier who was pointing his gun straight at him. “You know that this slab of meat will die if you shoot.”

“I know,” John said. His voice was shaky, but his hand still steady, “I made a promise.” Back after Castiel left that first time, Sherlock sat still on his chair for the the rest of the night. John was on his way upstairs to bed when Sherlock called his name.

“John,” John walked back into the sitting room and sat in his chair.

“Promise me,” Sherlock said staring ahead of him. “Promise me something?”

“Anything Sherlock.”

“If this, demon, or whatever it is, gets a hold of me.” he paused. John looked worried.

“What, Sherlock?”

“I want you to get rid of it.” John looked down. He knew what Sherlock meant.

“Of course.” John stayed with Sherlock until the sun came up the next morning.

Now, standing there with a gun pointing at his best friend- no, this is not his best friend. That smile it too big those eyes… God, those eyes.

“So who the hell are you? You have a name, and there is no way in hell am I calling you Sherlock.” Dean said. The body of Sherlock looked at Dean with a bored expression.

“You lovely folk,” he said, smile resurfacing, “may call me Moriarty.” he gave them a childish wave then vanished.

“Where did he go?” Sam asked, he immediately went to look out the window. The gun felt as heavy as lead and John dropped it to his side, and then he fell to his knees. He couldn’t do it. He should have. He was breathing heavy, and dean pulled him up and brought him to the couch. Tears were flowing freely from John’s eyes.

“I didnt. I couldn’t.”

“I know.” Dean said. He looked up to Castiel. “What do we do now?”

“I’ll be back. Stay here.” And then the angel vanished.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short chapter, but then again all of the chapters are short...

Castiel looked around him. The night sky dark above them, while the city of London bright with the Night Owls out and about. He was on a roof of a building and in front of him standing by the edge stood Sherlock. No, stood Moriarty. His large batwings were stretched out.

“Moriarty,” Castiel said.

The man in front of him turned around, but he eyes were not inverted.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock turn back to look out to the city. “Moriarty is in his ‘slumber mode,’ as he puts it. He’s not worried about anything.”

Castiel moved to stand next to Sherlock. He looks at the large wings. “So those are yours now?”

“I assume so,” Sherlock bought one around so he can properly look at it. He felt the stiff wing and the leathery webbing. “I assume that only you an I can see these.”

Cas nodded.

“And I assume I can’t fly.”

“No you can’t”

The two men stood in silence.

“So what happens now? Do I fight him?”

“Unfortunately you have no power over the Night Demon. You will have no knowledge of what happens when he is awake, and it seems that when he is awake your eyes will be inverted, as oppose to regular demons who get to chose when they reveal their eyes.”

Sherlock says nothing, but he continues to stare straight ahead of him. The gears in his mind are running on full speed. He needs to find a way to stop this. Moriarty wants to take over the world. To get rid of Crowley and take the Throne of Hell as his own and convert it to the Throne of Hell and Earth. He already has an army of demons working with him. It’s only a matter of time.

“Dont worry Sherlock, we will get rid of him. Sam and Dean know how to deal with Demons, and John is ready to fight for you. I am confident that we will succeed.”

Sherlock’s wings flap a bit and he turns and looks at Castiel. Castiel is not surprised to see the inverted colors of his eyes.

“Oh you will succeed? Please, tell me your plans, I am due for a good laugh.”

“It was a bad idea to chose this body, Moriarty,” Castiel said, his own wings unfolding.

“You know, your wings are very threatening, I have to admit, but let me tell you something,” Moriarty said, smile vanishing, “There is only four of you, and there are thousands behind me, and once I get rid of that fat pig Crowley, there will be even more. Soon I will become King of Hell and Earth, and honey, you should see me in a crown.”

He looked around again, down the street, the sound of a commotion could be heard. A riot. “Welp, I’d better be off. You know how it is, the children need to be disciplined. But before I go Castiel,” Sherlock took a step toward the Angel, “You are a fighter, and I admire that of you. When this is all over, when I rule, how would you like to be my right hand man? You could be,” He though of the right word, “Liaison for heaven.”

“I have no more connections to heaven.” Castiel said, “But even if I did, I would rather stab myself then serve you.”

 _“Tsk Tsk_ Castiel. That’s a shame.” Moriarty jumped up to the ledge of the building, “Oh, one more thing,” he said, facing Castiel one more time, “Tell John that Sherlock yells for him. And tell him that Sherlock is a dumb-ass, because if I never need to succumb to the hostage senario, he is first on my list.” He gave Castiel a big smile. “Tootles!”

Moriarty steps off the ledge and falls over, but when Castiel rushed to the ledge to look down, there was nothing there.

“So, you like to be dramatic.” Castiel takes note of this for future reference before vanishing himself.


	8. Chapter 8

He stood on the roof of the building. Below, the riot was growing at a good rate, but not as fast as he wanted. The King of Hell looked around the empty space and saw a block of wood. He shrugged his shoulders and picked it up. Walking back to the ledge he threw it down at one of the Cops.

“There we go,” he smiled. The cop down below frantically looked where the object came from, and he ran towards one of the protesters, who retaliated with throwing a molotov cocktail.

Shots began to be heard.

Crowley laughed to himself and settled on the ledge, watching the chaos unfold. Suddenly his laughter stops. There’s someone behind him. He turns to see what used to be a young man, but the inverted eyes ad the bat wings told him otherwise.

“Ahh, I see you finally found a vessel to your liking. You were always picky, Jim.”

Moriarty smirked, “But my pickiness payed off.”

Crowley looked at him, “Eh, I guess,” and turned back to look at the riot. He could hear and feel Moriarty walking forward to join him, “Nice wings by the way.”

Moriarty stretched them out and looked at them, “You think so? Hmm, I thought I could have gotten better.” He flapped them a couple of times before he folded them against his back. “What is this then?”

“Oh this? Just bored.”

The riot was escalating quickly. People were shouting, fires were starting, and shots were firing.

“You know, in a way, this can be looked at as foreshadowing,” Moritarty said, still looking over the scene.

“Oh yea? In what way,” Crowley turned to the Night Demon, mentally preparing himself for the conversation. 

“Your empire is at its closing. Someone needs to be here to pick up the pieces that you will drop.”

“And you think it will be you, if this, ‘closing of my empire,’ will ever happen.”

“Oh I know it will. I have my army behind me. It is growing, while yours is shrinking.” Moriarty stared at Crowley, and the two Demons locked eyes for a good minute. Neither would back down to the other, but Crowley changed his focus to the wings. Moriarty stretched them out again, curving them around Sherlock’s body, making him more menacing. “It will happe soon you know. My army is almost complete, and when it is,”

Suddenly Moriarty pulled out a silver blade and swiped it at Crowley. Being on the ledge, Crowley could not get out of the way in time, and the blade cuts through is chest. He yells in shock and pain, and behind Moriarty three more demons appear. Eyes black as Onix, they run towards the Night Demon. Sherlock’s slim tall body along with the large wings give Moriarty the advantage in agility, and he is able to easily dodge the attackers. 

Moriarty is able to grab a hold on one of the demons and stab him in the stomach. Like a dancer, he is light on his feet as he moves from one demon to the other and it is not long when he moves past the three corpses and grabs a hold of Crowley by the neck, pushing the blade against his throat.

“Well, better be safe than sorry.” Their eyes were inches from each other. Crowley took a deep breath and soon his hazel eyes turned blood red.

“You will fail,” he said, “This is a mistake. Who will be there to pick up your mess?”

Moriarty made Sherlock’s lips twitch, and without saying a word he shoved the blade up into Crowley’s skull. Red light emanated from his eyes and mouth, and soon former King of Hell fell into a pile of dust at Moriarty’s feet.

Moriarty straightened and slid the blade into Sherlock’s suit before straightening himself. He flapped his wings a bit and backed away from the the pile of dust on the floor. He looked around the area around him and them vanished from the scene.

-x-

He stood outside 221b across the street. Sherlock looked up into the windows, but from this angle he cannot properly see inside. He needs to stay away, for now at least. This is something big. Bigger than anything he has experienced before. This isn’t some mysterious murder with doors locked form the inside. This is a potential world take over, led by a demon as crazy, clever, and bored as Sherlock himself. The point is, there is a good reason why Mycroft is in the government and not Sherlock.

“He’s right you know,” Sherlock said, not looking away form this home across the street. Next to him stood another man. A couple of years older, but shorter by a couple of inches. Black hair slicked back and wearing Westwood, he chewed his gum in silence. “You will fail.”

“Oh Sherlock,” Moriarty said. “Why is it that everyone is underestimating me? It’s getting annoying. Please don’t join them in thinking that. I have my plans. Plans I can’t even tell you. But I can tell you they are foolproof, and no hunter, angel, or soldier can stop me. Us.”

Sherlock closed his eyes. He is in on this plan as Moriarty is, no matter if its by choice.

“Oh Sherlock, I just want to tell you that you are doing a fabulous job already, there is no need to mess it up now. You and I both know what will happen otherwise.”

Sherlock looked at the ground in front of him. He cannot let John get hurt in all of this. He will do what he can to stop this demon, but they both know that there is one thing that will bring Sherlock to his knees.

“Yes,” he said.

“Atta boy.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and when he opened them, they were inverted again. He smiled for a bit and after looking up and down the empty street, vanished once again into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

Think. Think think think. Sherlock’s not here, so it’s your job to figure it out. Basically, what would Sherlock do? There is an evil demon running around London in Sherlock’s body, with a mind to match, so come on John, think think  _think_!

John found himself sitting forward in his armchair with his two hands to his mouth as if in prayer. Around him Castiel and the Winchesters are silently arguing on what to do next.

Sam watched John sit like a statue before turning back to his brother. “Dean, we can’t just run out blindly, we need to know his plans.”

“Plans? Sam, I’m pretty sure this psychopath’s plans are pretty obvious. One,” At this Dean presses his index fingers together, “Gather all of the demons,”

“It would have to be a powerful location,” Cas interrupted from the window.

“Two,” Dean presses his index and middle finger together, “Send said evil demons around the world.”

“It would be ideal for this location to have gate ways, or paths that spread out from a central point.”

“And Three,” Dean holds up his ring finger, “He needs to over look everything. There is gong to be so many different strings, he is going to need to be able to know exactly what each string represents, and how to control it.”

“Like a spider,” Cas watches a small spider crawl into a crack in the window frame to hide out for the night.

“Okay, fine, but do you know how many crossroads there are in London alone? We don’t even know if he is still in the UK.” 

“He’s still in the UK alright,” Dean turns the laptop on the desk towards Sam. The screen has headlines of riots in the city and a growing rate of fights and potential deaths.

Cas peers over Dean’s shoulder to look at the screen. “When the King of Hell falls, caos grows. He killed Crowley. Or at least, Crowley stepped down. This will continue until Moriarty takes charge, but when he does who knows if it will get worse or not. Crowley at least kept everything in order, with Moriarty, I am not so sure.”

The three of them turned again to look at John. He was still sitting in his chair, palms together, and looking at the floor in front of him. He was deep in concentration. The Americans assumed that he wasn’t listening to them, but John was absorbing everything like a sponge.

_Location that holds power. Roads or pathways that radiate from a central point. Can act as the center of a web. Spider web. With connections and employers surrounding you…._

John was still, but his eyes darted from place to place, not really looking at anything, but in his mind he is putting the pieces together.

Suddenly he shot up into a standing position. A smile crept on his face as he looked at them.

“I know where he is.”

-x-

John rushes back downstairs, gun fully loaded. This time he won’t hesitate in making sure that this new King of Hell with fall to his own end. When he meets up with the Winchesters and Castiel he nodded.

“Well, are you ready?”

“Are you sure this is where he would be?” Dean said. Before John could answer, however, Dean flipped a knife in his hands and held the handle out to him. “By the way this might serve you better than that gun.”

“Thanks,” John took the knife and, after looking at it, slid it in his belt right next to the gun. “And yea, I’m sure. It would make sense right? People are always saying how it has soe tendencies for supernatural occurences and ghostly happenings.

“It makes sense, good job, John,” Castiel said, “I’m sure Dean and Sam would have thought of it, but being unfamiliar with European landmarks-“

“Yea okay Cas no need to rub it in..” Dean said, crossing his arms, but the small smile says that it was in good humor.

John smirked. Despite only meeting them yesterday, there was a bond growing between the four men. Five; John is pretty sure Sherlock and Dean formed some sort of friendship when they went to that crime scene. They all trusted each other, they had to. It was only a lucky chance that they all actually LIKED each other. Or, with Sherlock, tolerated.

“Right then, let’s go.” Dean took a hold of Cas’ coat while Cas touched Sam and John’s foreheads. With a flutter of wings, the four disappeared from Baker Street

And arrived just outside the Stonehenge.

The night sky was clear and sparkled with the infinite amount of stars. But in the center of the old ruins, there was a soft glow. This glow had lighted limbs that extended out to the nine surviving ‘doorways’ that circled around it. Standing right next to the glow in the center, and staring straight at the three of them, Sherlock grins and the shadow of his large wings extend from his silhouette. His eyes are inverted, and he laughs as he steps forward.

“Ahh a party! It must be a surprise party, because I had no idea about it.” He then pretended to wipe invisible tears, “Oh is the party or me? I am so touched, Castiel, really I am.” Behind him the glowing began to dim, yet the nine doorways began to glow brighter, “Oh look! More guests!”

Thick grey smoke shot out of each doorways. They circled around the stonehenge and then they landed in the space in front of Moriarty. Nine Demons separate John from Sherlock. Moriarty from Castiel. Dean takes out his knife and smiles in excitement. Sam licks his lips and shifts his weight, waiting for the signal to attack. 

“Castiel?” John said, sliding the knife out as well as his gun, “Is there a chance that Sherlock will survive this?”

The Demons stand there, waiting for the first move.

Castiel continues to stare at Moriarty when he answers, “I don’t know, but help Dean and Sam with the demons, and leave Moriarty to me.”

John nods, and even though he couldn’t see them, Castiel’s pure white wings extend to their full length, and the scream of the demon in the middle yells, initiating the battle between good and evil.


	10. Chapter 10

John has no time to think before he hears Sam shoot the first demon. The demon falls as its skeleton flashes a couple of times and then it lies still on the ground. He also notices that Castiel is ignoring the battle around him and walks pass the ruins towards Moriarty, who is waiting for him with a smile.

John fixes his grip on the knife in his hand and runs forward. In less than a second, his mind tells him that there are 3 demons to each of them. The large blocks of stone around them can make for good cover, if only for a moment.

To his left, Sam runs forward with his own knife that replaced his gun, and Dean was able to shove his knife in the stomach of one of the demons that jumped on him. A yell of his name brings him back and he jumped on top of one of the stones and blows the head off of the nearest demon with his gun at point blank.

At the center of the ruins Castiel can hear Sherlock’s baratone laugh created by Moriarty. They hold each other’s gaze the whole time, and Castiel let his silver stake drop into his hand.

“You can’t do this Moriarty,” Castiel said, “What you are doing will destroy the planet completely, there will be nothing left to rule.”

“Oh,” Moriarty said, his wings drooping a bit. He walks towards the angel and continues, “Well, since you say it that way,” he snaps his fingers and nine more black clouds shoot out of the portals and the nine new demons land behind them.

The sound of gun shots and the electric deaths of demons tell Castiel that the hunters and doctor are still okay, so he extended his own wings once more and stands as still as a statue.

“It’s you who don’t understand,” Moriarty says, inverted eyes locking with blue. “I am more powerful than these filth called demons. I am more powerful than Crowley,” he moves forward with force, pushing Castiel against one of the rocks. Moriarty holds him by the neck as he pushes him up the column. “More powerful than you.”

Castiel begins to panic. The Night Demon’s grip on his neck tightens, and Castiel can feel an immense heat that swims through his body. Moriarty smiles again as he pushes forward once more, and a bright light begins to leak through his fingers around the angel’s throat.

Castiel slides down the rock, his stake dropping to the ground. The light grows brighter, and the high frequecny sound of a dying angel rings through the area. Castiel closes his eyes, an apology towards Dean and Sam on his lips, when suddenly the hand is no longer there.

Castiel slowly opens his eyes to see Moriarty staring back at him, but his eyes are no longer inverted. A white fog-like cloud flows out of Sherlock’s eyes like tears and falls to the ground like milk. Already feeling his strength coming back, Castiel stands up straight and narrows his eyes at Sherlock. Something’s not right.

Sherlock doesn’t say anything, but he coughs once and blood pours out of his mouth. He staggers a bit before falling back. Castiel moves to grab him but the arms of the Army Doctor grips his waist from behind.

“Easy, easy now. I got you.” John slowly and carefully lowers the detective to the ground. Castiel looks down next to John and sees the bloody knife that he carried in the dirt. John sits on his knees and Sherlock leans back on his lap, eyes darting at the sky above him. He mouth gulps in air, but still he coughs up blood. John rubs his hair and says, “It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

Dean and Sam join them, leaving the dead bodies of the demons behind them. The light in the center of the Stonehenge has gone out the moment Moriarty was killed. they both stand behind John silently, watching over the scene.

Castiel kneels next to the two Englishmen, and puts his kand on John’s shoulder. When he looks up, Castiel says, “Thank you for saving my life.”

“I…. I made a promise.” John replies. He looks back down at his friend.

“I know. I am terribly sorry you had to do that, but he is not dead yet, and that is good news.” With John watching him with a confused- borderline-offended look, Castiel placed his fingers on Sherlock’s head. Immediately the Seer stops coughing and closes his eyes.

“What did you do to him?” John says. If his friend wasn’t lying on his lap he would punch Castiel. Angel or not. However, John puts his hand to Sherlock’s neck and feels a slow, steady heartbeat. John looks back to Castiel in shock. “You. You healed him.”

Castiel simply looks up at the Winchesters. “Lets get back to Baker Street.”


	11. Chapter 11

It was still night when the group of five arrived back to Baker Street. Sherlock was still unconscious, lying on the couch, and while John was making sure he was still okay, Dean, Sam, and Cas were all standing by the fireplace. They were silent however, and were staring into the kitchen with wide eyes. John didn’t notice their concern, until he heard the clicking of glassware and movement from the kitchen.

“Who’s there?” he said, turning from the sleeping detective.

A man emerged from the kitchen holding a steaming cup of tea. John didn’t recognize him, but the man looked at the Americans and smiled.

“Hello Boys,” he said with a smooth accent.

“Crowley?” Sam asked.

“I thought you were dead,” Dean said, approaching him.

“Me? Dead? I should be offended by that. You honestly think a small piece of wood would kill me? The worst I got was a small splinter,” he sucked on one of his fingers for effect, and then took a sip of his tea. “Mmm.. haven’t had a cup of tea this good in a millennia.” He walked forward and sat in John’s chair. “Oh this is nice too-“

“Alright, Crowley, tell us what happened. Why are you here?” Dean asked, running out of patience.

“Okay, okay. You’re all lucky I am in a story telling mood.” He took another sip before starting. “Jim Moriarty is a crazy little shit, as I am sure you noticed. He has always wanted the throne,and his bark is worse than his bite. He stabbed me, yes, but I was curious. The world was never in danger; I was still in control of everything, but I wanted to see how this would play out. It was actually entertaining to watch you lot run around eatchother.”

“Wait-“ John said, “So this was all a, a game to you? A little show? People’s lives were at stake! We could have died!”

“King of hell love,” Crowley said simply, “Even though your friend over there is a little more developed than the rest, people’s lives aren’t at the top of my worry list.”

John felt his hands squeeze into fists in anger. “That’s it. Out.”

“As you wish.” Crowley finished his tea and stood up. “Nice running into you boys again.” he said to the other three, “I am sure we will meet again soon.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, Sam nodded his head slightly, and Cas stood motionless, and after a little smirk Crowley vanished.

  
-x-

Two months later, John walks down the steps and into the kitchen one morning to find Sherlock looking at something under the microscope. After returning from the Stonehenge, Sherlock remained asleep for the next two days; however, this was nothing out of the norm with other cases, so John continued to do what he usually did. Sam, Dean, and Cas left shortly after Crowley did, with promises of visiting once Sherlock was better, but John has heard nothing from them since. 

He walks up to Sherlock and tries to see what he is looking at. He raises his eyebrows when he sees that Sherlock is looking at and is taking notes about nothing.

“What are you looking at?”

“One of Castiel’s feathers. Despite having the demon dying in me, I still retain my vision.”

“Oh,” that makes sense. John is not surprised that Sherlock would steal one of the angel’s feathers, but he was sort of sad that he missed watching Sherlock try to persuade Cas to let him study one. “Anything interesting?”

“Are you kidding? The whole thing is interesting. If only you can see.”

John turns to make them both a cup of coffee, but instead of walking the clear path to the kettle, he walks into a solid body.

Castiel ignores John’s yell of sudden surprise. “Hello John. Sherlock.”

“Castiel,” Sherlock says rising out of his chair. John is leaning on the table, still catching his breath.

“What color are they?”

“Grey.”

Castiel thinks for a moment. “That makes sense, considering why I am here.”

“What’s wrong then?” John asks, finally getting the kettle ready.

“We need you back in America. Sam and Dean are on a case, but it is something that might be a little over their heads.” he pauses for a moment, and Sherlock waits with excitement. “There have been disappearances.” Castiel says, staring at the ground with his eyebrows forward in concentration. “People will be seen with a group of friends one minute, the next they are never heard from again.”

He then looks up to Sherlock, “The only constant with these disappearances are these statues. Angel statues.”

“Angels? I’m assuming they are not associated with you?” John asks.

“They are not. We are not made out of stone. Our guess is that they have the same look as us, but they are not angels. Sam believes that they are not of this world at all.”

“Do the people turn into the statues?” Sherlock asks, already in thinking mode with his hands in their usual prayer position.

“We don’t think so; the statues have no reseblence to the victims. Or we don’t think so. They all appear to be crying into their hands.”

Sherlock is silent, and John sips his tea, waiting for his response. After another moment Sherlock looks up to John, smile growing on his face. “John, it seems to me that we are going to America.” and then he jumps off of the chair, grabs his microscope, and runs into his room.

“Wait, Sherlock,” John said. He puts his cup on the table and motions to Castiel to wait. “Sherlock if we are going to America let me pack for you- Sherlock you will need a toothbrush, not a blow torch!”

 

**-end-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it! bear with me, this was my first full-length fic. I had so much fun writing it and i am so proud of it as well, please let me know if you liked it C:


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